Illuminati
by Funeral Lilies
Summary: Draco likes winter, poetry...and his father, perhaps just a little too much. Malfoycest, oneshot, don't read if you're not into slash.


1

**ILLUMINATI**

**Fandom: Harry Potter**

**Rating: R**

**Pairing: Lucius/Draco**

**Set: When Draco is about fifteen, at the manor during Christmas.**

**A/N: Incest, age-gap, you name it. The title is also the title of a wonderful Malice Mizer song, which is why I chose it.**

Winter. Draco tasted the word – he liked to whisper words to himself over and over, to reveal the beauty in them or to discover how silly they actually sounded. Yes, he liked words; his mother had told him that he had always, even in his earliest childhood. Draco loved letters, writing and, secretly, the poetry he had found in his father's library a few years ago. Byron, Shelley, Baudelaire and Rimbaud – he had read them all, keeping Byron's _Fugitive pieces _under his pillow for almost a year. It seemed a bit laughable now, but he still remembered the first, shivering sensation of reading those poems alone in his bed at the age of thirteen.

The boy staring at him from inside the gold-framed mirror on the wall wasn't properly dressed yet, and Draco sighed as he saw the reflection of that pale, thin body he had never been able to fully accept. The window was open, and the chilly air swept into the room. Draco didn't know why he had opened it an hour earlier – it wasn't at all pleasant, but he used to do things like that, ignoring that actions always have consequences. Somehow, he wanted to punish himself, standing semi-naked in a freezing room, watching himself in the mirror…

It knocked on the door, and Draco knew immediately who was there. Narcissa, his mother, was away for a shopping spree in Paris, which wasn't by any means unusual. Draco was used to being on his own, since he never saw much of his father even if they were both at the manor at the same time. Lucius never seemed to finish whatever it was that kept him busy day and night.

Draco opened the door, his white shirt unbuttoned. Lucius frowned as he felt the chill, then he went over to the window and slammed it shut without looking at his son.

"It's freezing in here, Draco, if you hadn't noticed." He glanced at Draco disapprovingly.

"I came to remind you that you have to write that letter to your mother, or else she'll be absolutely furious, which you know." Draco nodded, blushing since he had hoped he wouldn't have had to write her at all. Lucius passed him to leave the room, but Draco stopped him, silently asking himself what he was doing.

"Father…could you please help me with my tie? I never seem to get it right." Why am I lying about that? he thought, as Lucius closed the door and followed him towards the mirror. Draco buttoned his shirt quickly, then turned to face his father.

"The red one – yeah, that", he said breathlessly. Lucius put it around his neck, knotting it skillfully and then examining his work.

"There, now it's done properly." He turned to leave. Draco felt strangely empty inside, as if he was losing something…

"Father, do you think I'm pretty?" Lucius stared at him, looking slightly irritated, his fingers on the handle.

"That's the stupidest question I've ever heard – of course you are." A warmth settled itself inside Draco's body, making him a little dizzy. Before Lucius had the chance to leave, Draco walked up to him. He was shivering with fright, as he carefully removed his father's cold hand from the door handle and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Father." For a moment, he thought nothing would happen. Draco wasn't sure how it felt, how he felt now – he couldn't remember if he had ever felt anything.

"Draco…" Lucius pulled him close, hotly, his fingertips pressing against Draco's skin, their lips meeting hesitantly at first. Tears sparkled in the corners of Draco's gray eyes, as the kissing intensified and he realized how much he desired this – this crime against nature, this that no one would never forgive them, ever…

Lucius's hands were around his neck now, as if investigating the possibility of strangling him – but the cold fingertips stroked him gently, and Draco pressed himself desperately against his father as his tie and shirt landed on the floor. The mirror on the wall caught a glimpse of entwined bodies, as they moved over to Draco's bed. The last time they were in the same bed, Draco thought as he began to unbutton his father's trousers, must have been when he himself was a small child, crying after having a nightmare… Then, Lucius had been reluctant to take him in his arms, to show him he was loved…

They didn't talk at all now, hadn't talked for a long time. Draco knew even the smallest word would break the spell, make them realize what they were doing, make them recognize the hideous truth hiding behind this incestuous act. He simply couldn't comprehend the fact that the person who was pressing his wrists against the mattress and fucking him, the person whose tears tickled his skin as they fell down on his neck, was his own father.

Afterwards, Lucius left immediately. He didn't say anything, didn't even look at Draco or show any sign of worry for him. Draco heard the door shut and realized he was all alone, weak and shaking in his own bed. He had never been so afraid in his whole life. The physical pain was nothing compared to the intense feeling of his soul being raped, the sudden loss of a heart in his chest… He wondered where his father was now. Having regrets? Draco knew he had, knew they both had, and yet he didn't want Lucius to regret anything… He didn't want his mother to return, knowing it was she, not himself, who would share his father's bed forever…Sickened with his own thoughts, Draco hid his face in the pillow and tried to forget. He had slept with his own father… He had actually done it, and he would willingly do it again… Draco stayed in bed all day, lying naked in the coldness, crying silently, feeling smaller than he had ever done before.

In the evening he woke up, surprised he had managed to fall asleep at all. Even though it hurt to move, Draco got dressed and examined himself in the mirror before leaving. No one would be fooled into believing he hadn't been crying, and his face was so pale he looked almost scary. "That's what it does", Draco thought bitterly, before going to see his father.

Lucius was in his study, as usual, and Draco didn't even dare to breathe as he knocked on the door. His father didn't tell him to come in, but after a few seconds Draco entered anyway. Lucius sat by his desk, studying parchments and dusty old books. He didn't look at his son.

"Close the door, Draco." Draco obeyed, then went straight to his father, his big gray eyes observing every move of the older man's fingers as he turned over the pages of a very thick book in a nervous way.

"Father, please." Draco said. His father put the book back on the desk and turned to face him, looking tired and almost frightened. Without asking, Draco sat down on his lap, his head resting on his father's shoulder. Lucius put his arms around him, caressing his hair in a way Draco was sure his mother had never experienced.

"It won't happen again", Lucius said. Draco looked into his eyes, kissing him softly, making the only promise he knew he would keep… His father held him close, and in that moment Draco felt certain that he was the only one Lucius had ever really loved.

THE END


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